For One, They're Cassette Tapes
by Mummyluvr
Summary: Ten Drabbles about Supernatural inspired by random songs on my iPod. And I do mean random.


**Title:** For One, They're Cassette Tapes

**Summary:** Ten Drabbles about Supernatural inspired by random songs on my iPod. And I do mean random.

**A/N:** I stumbled across this method of writing at midnight last night, when I was surfing this site. Put your iPod on shuffle, and write stories that relate to the first ten songs that play. You can only write for as long as the song is playing, though, so it's a little tricky if you get stuck with something short.

**Warning:** Yeah, I know. I have a lot of random stuff on my iPod. Therefore, there are a lot of random fics. If you don't enjoy implied Wincest, stay away from the first one. If you don't enjoy implied character death, stay away from the Christmas one.

**Rating:** K+

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Supernatural. I don't own any of these songs. Please don't sue me…

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**The Ballad Of Jensen And Jared**

**-Virginia Tingley**

He hated it. He hated the looks, hated the stares, hated the insinuations.

Yeah, the insinuations were the worst, mostly because they were right.

It was wrong. He knew that. They both did. But, I mean, _come on_. People took one look at his brother and melted, so why not him? The man was handsome, was smart, was expertly trained.

And he was good in bed.

So good in bed.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

**Fake It**

**-Seether**

The red eyes bored into him, looking through him, staring at the deepest part of him, the part he tried to hide. "Dean, Dean, Dean."

He glared at her. Damned crossroads bitch.

"Your life for your brother's. Even after what daddy did to you? Do you know what that makes you?"

"Just bring him back," Dean demanded.

"My, my. Aren't we the pushy one today?"

"I can't let him die. I can't be alone. Please, you have to help me."

She smiled, the grin lingering in her ruby eyes as she circled him. "One year, baby. You sure that's enough for you?"

Dean grabbed her, pulled her close, and they kissed. He was such a hypocrite.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

**Witch Doctor**

**-Alvin and the Chipmunks**

"I love her." It was a simple statement, one that Sam had never imagined he could say.

The psychic raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And she doesn't know I exist. What should I do?"

The older man nodded, leaning across the table. "Maybe try talking to her?"

"Do you have any idea what she looks like?" Sam questioned. "Do you have any idea who she hangs out with?"

The psychic shook his head. "Isn't it wrong, though? To force someone to love you?"

"This is all I've ever wanted," Sam insisted. "Please. I need her to love me."

"Fine," the man groaned. He stood up and grabbed a dusty book from an equally dusty bookshelf, flipping it open and handing it to Sam. "See that inscription?"

"Yes?"

"Say that to her. You'll be irresistible."

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

**Christmas Eve (Sarajevo 12/24)**

**-Trans-Siberian Orchestra**

The road was long, stretching before them, a strip of black cutting through the startling white landscape that winter had brought. They drove in silence, the meaning of the day weighing heavily on their minds as snow flecked the windshield.

The car sped up as it rounded a corner. It was Christmas. It was Christmas and they should have been celebrating, but here they were trying to outrun a gargoyle that got pissy when the weather changed.

The road was slick, coated with black ice, but that didn't stop the hunter from flooring it around another bend as the stone monster gained on them. It was practically on top of them when the wheels slid, their traction gone, and the Impala plowed into a snow bank.

A snow bank that was hiding a rather sharp jumble of rocks.

A loose jumble of rocks.

The gargoyle didn't have to kill them itself, just strip the flesh from their bones.

Merry Christmas.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

**The Candy Cave**

**-The Letter Y**

Dean hated the dream. The Demon singing to him. Sam and Jo pushing him, annoying him, _singing_. And then the cave.

Oh, and they _always_ took his freakin' kidney.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

**Sold (The Grundy County Auction Incident)**

**-John Michael Montgomery **

Dean never knew how to behave at these places. He wasn't prim and proper, and he stood out like a sore thumb in leather, flannel, and denim.

Sam, however, loved the auction house. And the owner's daughter. _Way to be a geek, Sammy._

Dean figured that, given the chance, Sam would bid on her. Hell, if it had been Dean who stood half a chance, he would have used that as his pick-up line. Yeah, if Dean was a total dork that didn't look like he had wandered in on accident, he would have bid.

Going once, going twice, sold! To the geek wearing seven layers of flannel…

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

**100 Years**

**-Five For Fighting**

His life flashed before his eyes. His chance at normal. At a wife, and a house, a white picket fence, 2.5 kids, everything he'd never thought he could have.

A _family_. That was what he wanted more than anything. He knew he wasn't perfect. He knew he did bad things. But didn't he at least deserve _something_?

His life flashed before his eyes and he was scared. He saw a baby, a fire, a funeral. He saw guns and knives and demons. He saw a kid leaving. He saw a man returning. He saw Sammy, and he saw Sam. He saw John. He saw Mary. He saw himself, broken and beaten and scared and alone and crying without tears, screaming without words, hurting without wounds.

He saw what he wanted. Saw what he couldn't have. He saw happiness, togetherness, love. He saw sorrow, abandonment, hate. He saw what was. He saw what could never be.

He saw his hands move before he was aware of what they were doing. He saw his own blood. He saw his family. He saw bright colors that faded until they were dingy and dark.

He saw Sam.

"Auntie Em."

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

**All Right Now**

**-Free**

The car barreled down the road, its two passengers safe and happy and together. Nothing could hurt them. Nothing could tear them apart.

Sam turned to his brother and smiled. Dean was back. Dean was back and that was all that mattered. Sure, he didn't remember much of what happened, just the hellhound charging him, and then waking up in Sam's arms nearly three days later.

He had to grin at that one, too. For someone who claimed not to believe in angels and God, Dean had latched onto that number and held on. Three days he'd been dead, three days he'd been in Hell. On the third day, he'd risen.

That was one hell of a way to make an entrance, too.

Sam nodded to himself, settling back in the passenger seat, _his_ seat forever and a day, and closed his eyes. Everything was going to be all right… just as soon as Dean let go of his God complex.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

**If You're Going Through Hell (Before The Devil Even Knows)**

**-Rodney Atkins**

He walked. He walked and he walked and he walked because there was nothing else to do and he knew from experience that if he stopped they would find him.

He didn't want them to find him.

His feet beat out a rhythm on the cracked pavement, sweat soaking his clothing as the heat closed in on him. His mouth was dry, his face tortured. He wanted to go home, wanted to get out. He'd changed his mind. It wasn't worth it. He didn't mind being alone, not really. There were perks to it.

He stopped. He couldn't move anymore, couldn't force his feet to go any farther. He hadn't asked for this. He'd just wanted his brother back so badly. He-

Sam screamed as the horde of demons fell on him, covering him in their smothering blackness. He wished he'd never unlocked his abilities, wished he'd left Dean in the pit, as awful as that sounded. If he hadn't done it, his army wouldn't be trying to swallow him whole into a gaping pit of darkness.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

**Ladies Love Country Boys**

**-Trace Adkins**

Everything was bigger in Texas. That was what the throng of women had been talking about before the brothers had stumbled in the convention hall, dazed and confused after their latest hunt.

They'd been mobbed. The women, the ones who kept calling them by strange names and threatened to rip their clothes off, had descended as soon as the doors had closed behind the Winchesters.

The brothers had barely been able to get out of the hall, barely been able to avoid getting themselves killed by fans of some stupid, probably inaccurate ghost show.

"Stupid CW," Dean muttered, nursing a bruised arm. "Should stick to quality programming. Like the Pussycat Dolls."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Dean." He looked down at the paper he'd managed to grab from a table, one explaining the convention. "Who the hell names their kid Jensen?"

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Told you they were random songs. Yeah, that's right. I've got the Charlie The Unicorn song on my iPod. I'm such a geek.

As usual, reviews are appreciated. Thanks for reading!


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